We were seated, then ordered, then dined
With two who simply couldn’t taste
The difference, and they were pleased;
All mashed potatoes created free
And equal by provisions of their
Culinarian Constitution.
My thoughts ran back to high school vending
Machines for food and some naughty
Suppositions: the only kids who used them
Had Moms who couldn’t cook. Never mind,
We all grew up, didn’t we, and today’s
Lives go right on irrespective
Of some telling difference.
De gustibus concerns the realm
Of honest disagreement, not
The disconcertment when taste detects
No contrast. “It didn’t take long,”
I said, “Shall I pass the gravy.”
